


Letters of the Damned

by anderscones



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Overdosing, mention of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anderscones/pseuds/anderscones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you didn't get it, he overdosed.</p><p>Sherlock is dead.</p><p>[flies into sun]</p></blockquote>





	Letters of the Damned

Dear Dr. Watson,

I looked at you. I saw you staring, but it wasn't at me. I was the most pained I'd ever been.

 

I looked at you. It was obvious you never stared at me. You only had eyes for her.

 

I looked at you. You looked down at me. I knew just what I'd have to do to keep you, even if it wasn't actually keeping.

 

I looked at you, and you looked at me. We both stared at the pretty, glass tube with the pretty wooden box. They were filled with ugly, powdery traps used to forget.

 

I looked at you. I felt alive, though I knew I was dying. You'd found me just in time. I'd succumbed to the ugly, powdery traps I used to forget about you. They were killing me quickly, having had too many in too little of a time.

 

I looked at you, and I wondered: Would things have gone differently if I never stared at you?

 

I looked at you. I saw you staring at me, and it was the most painful thing I'd ever seen.

 

I was too late.

Forever yours, Sherlock Holmes

~

Dear Mr. Holmes

I looked at you. I saw you staring at me, and it was the most painful thing I'd ever seen.

 

I looked at you. It was obvious you'd never stopped staring once you finally did. I stared, too, though. I wanted for you to catch up, but then I found her.

 

I looked at you. You were already looking at me. I knew just what you'd do to keep me, even if it wasn't actually keeping.

 

I looked at you, and you looked at me. We both stared at the pretty, glass tube with the pretty wooden box. They were filled with ugly, powdery traps used to forget.

 

I looked at you. The leathery chair you once made feel like home now felt like my grave. It was your deathbed. Too many powdery traps in too little of a time.

 

I looked at you, and I wondered: Would things have gone differently if I kept staring at you?

 

I looked at you. I saw you staring, but it wasn't at me. I was the most pained I'd ever been.

 

I was too late.

Forever yours, John Watson

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't get it, he overdosed.
> 
> Sherlock is dead.
> 
> [flies into sun]


End file.
